Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [153]
His attention seemed focused across the courtyard toward the advancing ranks of northmen…
Toward Thelgaar Ironhand.
*****
Kazgoroth paused among the corpses of the Ffolk left by the charge of the Bloodriders. The human lungs of Thelgaar Ironhand gasped for air, but no matter, the Beast felt no energy drain from the long climb.
The Beast watched the Sisters of Synnoria charge from the stables, and it watched the Bloodriders pursue them back across the courtyard.
And then the flames blossomed from the courtyard, and Kazgoroth bellowed inarticulately at the destruction of his own creatures. The white flames soared high and burned the Beast’s eyes with the power of the goddess. Roaring in a rage, Kazgoroth was forced to avert its eyes until the goddess’s power receded.
The Beast saw, finally, the ruins of the Bloodriders, and again its body twisted from the consuming rage. The power of the Darkwell surged uncontrollably, exploding in flames from Thelgaar’s distorted mouth and flexing his brawny arms into serpentine tentacles.
But the cool intelligence at the center of the monster’s being brought it quickly under control. Quickly the tentacles withdrew into human arms, and the white-bearded face melted back into the likeness of Thelgaar. Some northmen rubbed their eyes, attributing the alarming sight to the swirling smoke, the confusing din of battle. Others spoke silent prayers to their foreign gods.
*****
Tristan gasped as the white flames devoured the Bloodriders. He dimly heard a clattering beside him, and turned to see Robyn’s staff fall carelessly to the ground. The druid sagged backward against the wall of the keep, and slowly slumped. The prince leaped to her side and caught her unconscious body before she hit the ground. Robyn’s face was frighteningly pale, but she still breathed. Obviously, the effort to cast the awesome spell of destruction had drained and exhausted her.
For a moment, Tristan let the battle surge forward without him. Anguishing, he carried his beloved Robyn into the shelter of the alcove before the doors of the keep, laying her carefully upon his outspread cloak. Then he took her staff and placed it across her chest, hoping that the talisman might offer some enchanted aid to her recovery.
The prince noticed that the oaken shaft seemed to have cooled somewhat – it felt like a normal piece of smooth oak, no longer throbbing with that strange and deep sense of vitality he had noticed before.
And then Tristan forgot all about Robyn, as the Sword of Cymrych Hugh compelled him to stare across the courtyard. He saw the advancing form of the enemy king – a huge, white-bearded northman leading the charge of his countrymen with berserker intensity.
But the prince, aided by the power of Cymrych Hugh, saw much more than this. He saw the king as it truly was – not human, nor even animal, but the spawn of some force deeper and far more malignant than any living organism.
He recognized the king as the demon that had attacked Robyn in her room, only to be driven off by the combined efforts of the druid, the cleric, and the prince.
And he knew that the Beast recognized him.
Robyn moaned slightly, and stirred upon the steps of the keep. The prince half-turned toward her, and saw her eyes flutter open. He wanted to go to her, but the sword would not let him.
Resolutely, the Prince of Corwell turned his back upon Robyn and advanced to do battle with Kazgoroth.
*****
The final rise north of Corwell passed below the loping paws of the Pack, and finally Canthus saw his destination. The castle before him stood high upon its familiar knoll, but its appearance was much changed. Black smoke and orange flame roared skyward from many places along the wooden palisade. All about the base of the knoll pressed the army of northmen, as catapults bombarded the fortress from all sides, and raiders scrambled up the steep slopes of the hill